A Vague Melody
by ForWhenImGone
Summary: Her eyes were the most vivid shade of blue; like a mountain lake turned turquoise by the glacial silt. They glowed in the muted light of the morgue. "You're... you're... supposed to be dead." Jasper's words festered in the air for what seemed like ages.
1. Chapter 1

******Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No infringements intended. All original intellectual property is solely owned by its creator; the author.

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This is my entry for **The Gore Corner** June Prompt Challenge: _Zombies_. **Please note** this chapter has references to dissection of human bodies (donated cadavers). It was enough to make me sick to my stomach while researching, but if you are a fan of gore and tasteless dark humor I'm pretty sure you'll have no real issues with it.

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**One**

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"Who cuts off the heads?"

Jasper pointed to the long table where a half-dozen severed heads sat in aluminum roasting pans. He had several questions about this process. One had been: Why roasting pans? But as he watched the stumps ooz just below the jawline he realized it was the same reason disposable roasting pans are used for chickens: to catch the drippings.

The cadavers' heads were for a face lifting refresher course his University was hosting. The faces were masked with cloth, but the stumps were quite visible. Bloody and rough, viscous fluid discharged from the openings. This was not at all what he had expected when he'd volunteered for the seminar. It was almost barbaric. Who would be so crass when chopping someone's head off? Which led him to repeat his question. "The heads. Who cut them off?"

"Oh." Esme replied. She ran her hand over skin hooks and retractors as if sorting utensils for a dinner party. Her job was to set up the seminar and her feminine touch was apparent throughout the conference room. From the pastel linens that adorned the makeshift surgical tables, to the floral ambiance of air freshener. Its aroma scarcely masked the scent of the fresh test subjects. "That would be Mr. Masen, the medical examiner for this morgue."

Jasper grimaced in repulsion at the six bloody stumps. The room began to spin. "What did he use, a chainsaw?"

"I'm fairly certain it was a regular saw, Mr. Whitlock." She tittered, startling Jasper. He hadn't realized he said anything out loud.

The man bowed his head bashfully, his long dark bangs falling into his eyes. "Yes of course, I was just... how do you do it? Handle the... gore?"

She considered his question. "Well, I suppose I just think of them as if they aren't real. Just props or -" She readjusted the cloth over one of the heads. "Or like a center piece."

"Like a flower arrangement?"

Esme pursed her lips, and then nodded. "Yes. Like a flower arrangement. I quite like that visual."

He wished he could objectify the deceased in such a way.

The voluble noise outside in the hall caught Jasper's attention. The surgeons were arriving. He excused himself to greet them and provide them with the bound syllabuses for the workshop, eager to interact with the six doctors - all of their heads perfectly intact.

Most of the physicians paid little attention to him as his shaky hands passed out the programs, except for a man standing off to the side. He stared at Jasper. Straight reddish hair spilled over his forehead, giving him a slightly tousled look. The man's expression wasn't exceptionally friendly, more like he was just observing. Jasper wondered if his queasiness was obvious.

"Are we all set in there?" Dr. Cullen, the surgeon in charge of the symposium, asked as he strapped on a pair of latex gloves.

"Yes, sir." Jasper replied. He opened the door to the conference room, allowing the doctors to file in.

"Very good!" Dr. Cullen placed a gloved hand on Jasper's shoulder. "Did you make sure there was enough saline at each of the stations?"

"I believe so, sir."

"I hope so. Some of these heads have been around for a few days. Kept in coolers of course, but you know what happens with a refrigerated steak. The meat tends to dry out, so we must inject..."

Dr. Cullen was continuing his explanation, but Jasper could only hear a loud buzz in his ears. A bitter taste formed in the back of his mouth and he was salivating. He was certain he was going to vomit at any moment.

"Well." The doctor gave him a genial smile. "Shall we begin?"

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_**Thanks for** **reading! **__More to come after Jasper and I stop dry-heaving. Thank you to my cheerleader extraordinaire Mona Rider and the lovely DurtyNelly._


	2. Chapter 2

******Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of th**eir respective owners. No infringements intended. All original intellectual property is solely owned by its creator; the author.**

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**Two**

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The surgeons had already begun to work when Jasper walked back into the conference room. The cloth had been removed from the faces. Each decapitated being resembled a waxy mask. Their expressions twisted variations of agony that seemed to reach beyond the grave.

The buzz in Jasper's ear was getting louder; the room was beginning to tilt.

"Are you alright dear?" Esme brushed back the hair from his forehead as if to check his temperature. While she would certainly find his skin clammy, there was no fever, just a cold sweat.

"I'll be alright. Just a little uncomfortable is all." He forced a smile. "I suppose it's a good thing I'm majoring in chemistry instead to general medicine."

She giggled. It was a lovely sound, but he felt it might have been a bit inappropriate considering their circumstances. "You aren't the first student Dr. Cullen has recruited for these seminars and you certainly aren't the first - or last - to be squeamish with all this."

They glanced over to the tables. With scalpels in hand the doctors were beginning the facial anatomy review. As they started to peel the skin off the faces, he quickly averted his eyes, his gaze landing on the silent stranger from the hall. Jasper noted he was still being studied by the man.

"Esme, do you know who that guy is?"

She casually followed his stare. "Yes. That's Mr. Masen."

Masen. The medical examiner. The _beheader_. "Oh." He replied lamely.

"...You will notice the skin is very pliable. Almost as if you are skinning poultry." Dr. Cullen's voice carried through the room. "And there is no blood; however this won't be the case with your actual patients."

The group of surgeons chuckled; the sound resonated through Jasper's head. He realized he'd missed the joke.

"Maybe you should sit down Mr. Whitlock?" Concern clouded Esme's pretty features.

"No, it's okay. But maybe..." He licked his lips and attempted to forge on. "Maybe some fresh air might be a good idea though?"

"Yes, good idea." Esme patted his back as he headed for the door once more.

His steps were heavy, pins and needles pricked his every movement as if his legs had fallen asleep.

"Dr. Cullen? What are these lateral scars on the skulls?" One of surgeons questioned.

"Ah, yes. The heads - pardon me, the _chiefs_ - of surgery for the University have sequestered the donor's brains."

"Whatever for?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

The doors closed behind Jasper. While the air in the hall was noticeably less dense here, the pungent formalin smell still lingered. He felt a nudge in his stomach that was clearly nausea related.

With great effort, he made his ascent up the corridor, his fingertips breezing along the wall to guide him. He was sure he could do this. Like he said, he only needed some fresh air and then he'd be -

He heard the conference room doors open and slam shut behind him.

"Hey! Wait up a minute." Someone called to him.

Jasper spun around to acknowledge the voice. That was a mistake. The ground fell away and rushed towards him all at once, before everything went black.

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_**Thanks for reading!**_


	3. Chapter 3

******Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No infringements intended. All original intellectual property is solely owned by its creator; the author.

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**Three**

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The scent was what woke him. Antiseptic cleaner, blood, and a stranger odor he couldn't quite place. Jasper hadn't yet opened his eyes, but already could feel the room spinning. That part was okay; after all, he had spent most of the day feeling like the world was off its axis. What wasn't okay was the ache in his head.

"That was a pretty impressive fall you took." The man's voice sounded as if it were under water.

Jasper tentatively opened his eyes. Though the light in the room was meek it still stung; singing in collation with the throb in his brain.

"What?" He blinked, and tried to find the body to the voice.

"Your fall, it looked pretty painful." Across the room stood Mr. Masen, an eerie grey nimbus framed his red hair and cast his face in shadows, but Jasper could make him out by the imperious posture.

"It was." He replied, placing his fingertips to his brow. "Where am I exactly?"

"The cutting room."

"The what -"

The room came into a quick, blinding focus. The walls were an off-white, semi-gloss. There were shelves of plastic containers, all varying in sizes, and all containing samples of tissue floating in a sickly, brown fluid. Metal tables. Drains in the floor. Intimidating equipment attached to tubes and pulleys.

Jasper's jaw clenched as he realized he was in the morgue.

"You're not going to faint on me again, are you?" Mr. Mason's tone was complacent. _The smug bastard._

"I think I'll manage." Jasper assured him.

"Good." Mr. Masen pushed off from the counter he was leaning against. "Then, if you don't mind, I'd like to show you something."

Jasper didn't respond. Instead he looked up at the medical examiner, wondering what he could possibly want to show him. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure he wouldn't like it.

"You coming?" Masen extended a hand to help Jasper out of his chair.

"I should probably get back to the conference."

"Cullen knows you're with me. You needn't worry about the seminar. You'll still get full credit for it. C'mon."

He would have liked to decline the offer, but his thoughts were filled with a mantra: _You cut off people's heads, you cut off people's heads, you cut off people's heads_. "Alright." He finally conceded, and got up, pushing the man's hand away.

Mr. Masen led him through the room to a pair of swing doors, the kind you might see at the entrance of a restaurant's kitchen.

"Where are we going?"

Masen glanced over his shoulder. "The cooler."

Jasper stopped at the threshold. The cooler. Where they kept the bodies. The _dead _bodies.

"_Why_?" He had to force his voice not to sound shrill.

Masen turned to look at him, then smirked. "You're a man of science, are you not?"

"What does that have to do with -"

"What you are about to see; what I am about to show you, will change your entire outlook on medicine, on death, on _Jesus_."

The man's words weren't making any sense. He figured this must be joke. Playing tricks on the guy with the weak constitution. Did Masen do this with every student that was uncomfortable with being around death? It wasn't funny, but then again, Masen wasn't laughing.

Jasper took a slow, deep breath. "Alright. I'll play along." He gestured for the man to continue.

Mr. Masen pushed through the doors and disappeared into the cooler. Jasper hesitated half a second before he forced himself to follow.

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_**Thanks for reading!**_


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